The neighbour laughed. "Is he as reserved and as serious as he looks?"
she inquired.

"So they say."

"Poor fellow," answered the pretty woman, with affected pity,
examining him through her opera glasses.

Sardou, behind the scenes, was coming and going, arranging a chair,
changing the position of a table, catching his foot in a carpet,
swearing, nervous in the extreme. He made a hundred suggestions to the
manager, which were received with weariness. He entered into
conversation with the firemen. "Watch and listen, won't you, so that
you can give me your impression after the first act?" For Sardou
always preferred the spontaneous expressions of workmen and common
people to the compliments of his own _confreres_.

The distant skurry in the wings that always precedes the raising of
the curtain was audible on the stage. This rattling of properties is
very noticeable to actors new to the theatre, though it is quite
unsuspected by the general public.

The first act began. The audience was sympathetic, but impatient.
However, the author knew his public, knew when to spring his
surprises, how to hold the emotion in reserve until a climax of
applause at the final triumph.

Esperance made her first entrance, laughing and graceful, as her role
demanded. A murmur of admiration mounted from the orchestra to the
balcony. Hers was such startling, such radiant fairness! Her musical,